Letters to Remus
by Elphaba01
Summary: "Merlin, Remus! It's not that hard to believe that I, the most reckless, irresponsible, idiotic, clumsy twenty-four-year-old Metamorphmagus has fallen in love with YOU, the most BORING, STUPID, BOOKWORMY, INTELLEGENT, HANDSOME, OLDEST WEREWOLF EVER!" ... so Dora gets a bit annoyed at Remus for leaving. NT/RL


**I don't own Harry Potter. **

* * *

Remus,

I'm writing to tell you that my pregnant self is handling life during the wizarding apocalypse without you remarkably well. I know it may not be a surprise to you that I'm still trying to kick Death Eater/Voldemort arse with my telekinetic magic abilities – I mean, a woman who looks like a bleeding whale cannot _literally kick arse_, as you may have guessed.

I've tried, though.

But I sort of failed.

... for reasons I can't tell you, because you're not here. So I simply will have to tell you when you have enough sense to come back.

Love,

Your Pregnant Wife,

Mrs Nymphadora Lupin

P.S – Yes, I said Nymphadora, just for you.

P.P.S – Don't you dare start calling me Nymphadora. These Avada Kadavra's aren't meant for nothing.

* * *

Remus,

I'm still angry with you, you know.

Merlin, my magic has been so out of control lately! I've broken just about every piece of Mum's china sets, one of those glass sliding door thingies, three chairs and one of my Dad's model airplanes. It's bleeding mad, and I hate being pregnant and moody, and I know you're the only thing that'll calm me down about the fact that you're not here.

So, you know, it's pretty simple.

Be here.

Preferably soon.

_Please._

Love,

Your Needy Metamorphagus Wife

* * *

Remus,

Maybe the reason you left _isn't _because of you being the most beautiful werewolf I've ever had the fortune of encountering and marrying and having a baby with – but because you're a _complete arsehole!_

Merlin, Remus! It's not hard to believe that I, the most reckless, irresponsible, idiotic, clumsy twenty-four-year-old Metamorphagus has fallen in love with YOU, the most BORING, STUPID, BOOKWORMY, INTELLEGENT, HANDSOME, _OLDEST_ WEREWOLF _EVER_.

Old as in the frame of _mind_, just thought I'd clarify!

We can't choose who we love, Remus! If I had the choice, I'd love myself, but I can't, because it's both (a) humanly impossible and (b) bloody hard, since I am both GRUMPY and without _you_!

Merlin, you're a twat.

- TONKS.

P.S – And that was on purpose!

* * *

Love,

I didn't mean what I said before. You're not a twat.

It was the baby talking. _Baby _thought you were a twat, see. I tried to tell the little rascal, but you know how they are...

But on a serious note, I think I really need to stress how much I actually love you. It's difficult, because no potion or divination or book or wizard or... or _Hermione _can tell you just how much I do.

My first impressions of you were that you were boring, and just like Sirius. No, I don't mean in a thoroughly frustrated and angry sort of way. As in... I dunno, like the way your eyes didn't really _shine _like it obviously did before and the way you walked was like you were tired all the time. Tired of all the fighting.

Which, I've got to say, I didn't relate or acknowledge all that much, then. I just believed you were boring and much too clever to be in a mess such as this. I didn't especially realise that you're so much _more _than that until that night, when we were on patrol for the first time together. Do you remember that? I do.

I remember the colours, and the emotions, and you. Nothing else. Cold and dark and damp, it was, with the drizzle of rain soaking our clothes and the fresh air of the countryside – but all I felt was warmness, and your calming company, and my smile, and besides, my hair was still bubblegum pink so I had to still be happy, which was weird since my mood usually dampens when it's wet.

"So... how'd you get in to the Order?" I remember telling you, because the awkward silence was too awkward. You know how I hate silences like that.

You did that smile, you know? The one when you're almost teasing me, not giving me the answer until a moment too long; I don't know how you even do it, Remus, but even then, it made me hold my breath for your reply. "Sirius," you answered in a reminiscent tone.

I raised my eyebrows at you. Too vague.

You raised your own eyebrows in surprise. "Oh, he, err," you said, coughing, "he sort of told Dumbledore to force me into it, just before last year. I was in the original Order back in '78 till '81, so I couldn't refuse."

"Couldn't refuse?" I urged, curious. "Course you could've. Why, did you want to?"

You stayed silent.

And it was then when I realised that you were far from being boring and dull. It was then when I thought to myself, _He's going to take a lot of hard work to crack open._

You didn't utter a single word for the rest of that night.

It took me weeks! Months! Absolutely _ages _to get you to admit to me on even the smallest, vaguest of details about the war! It angered me, but now I realise that it was vital for you to do that. Whilst I was waiting for you to crack, I picked up on the little things you do.

No, really. I began to love your nervous ticks, how you wipe the sweat off your hands on your jeans and drum on your lap with your wand. I began to love your smile, so warm and calming and anything but perfect yet perfect to me. I began to love how you knot your hands in your hair when you're frustrated and angry, and the concentrated face when you read. I began to love your laugh, your eyes – oh Merlin, your _eyes_, how did you never get a girlfriend at – nevermind.

And when I studied you – in from outside the crack of the library door, behind you during team missions, during our patrols – I just couldn't help thinking, _How can I be good enough for you?_

I mean, you're perfect. Smooth. Wise. Intellegent. Funny.

I'm as far from perfect you could possibly get.

I was still thinking these thoughts when you told me you were a werewolf.

I was still thinking these thoughts when you proposed to me, slipped on that gorgeous golden band around my finger.

I was still thinking these thoughts when I was walking down the aisle, looking at you in that handsome black tuxedo and messed up hair.

Merlin, I've never stopped thinking these damned thoughts. Maybe I'm sort of grateful you're gone – you can do so much _better _than me.

But I definitely can't do much better than you.

And I'm an extremely selfish witch.

So there's only one way for it, and that's for you to come back.

- Yours

* * *

Remus,

I'm tired of the excuses and the tough talk.

I'm a wreck without you. I haven't been trying to kick arse at all and my hair is horrible and boring and _brown _and I've been in bed for most of the day crying so I couldn't even wear my new stilettos in public.

The baby's upset, too.

Come back to _us_.

- Dora and Co


End file.
